Okay, Pier One. I guess next time I'll read and pay attention to those annoying little tags that say things such as "Dry flat. Do not put in dryer!"
But the Dryer is So Much Quicker (Or, How I Ruined Four New Placemats)
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Tag Archives: shopping
Jonah and the Baby Hat
Oh my cookies! I am so glad that I have such talented friends. Can you believe that someone just sat down and whipped up this precious work of art? I’ve tried to knit before — Older Daughter patiently attempts to re-teach me every couple of years or so — and even my incredibly-simple-and-anybody-can-do-it scarves end up wonky. This baby hat is so cute I just want to play with it — I adjust the size and tie the ribbon and imagine this on a sweet little infant head. My friend Sherry Campbell, whose current work exile in Louisiana has significantly reduced the fun factor here in northwest Alabama, made this for our Grandbaby No. 2, expected to arrive in mid-November. I love how the colors and patterns and ribbon all work together in perfect adorability. I remember when Sherry first discovered knitting and took to it with dedication and passion, as
she does everything. Then there was the famous road trip where she stopped at every Tuesday Morning for hundreds of miles so she could collect enough of the same type of yarn she needed for a special project. But who can argue with talent such as this? And seeing this hat makes Grandbaby No. 2’s arrival seem all the more real. Well, that, and Older Daughter’s growing tummy. Bless her heart, she says she is sort of getting tired of 3-year-old Capt. Adorable always giving her the role of the whale when they play Jonah.
Nobody Checks Betty White’s ID, Either
Okay, I realize that some days I’m more likely to look all of my almost-54 years than other days. I mean, we can’t be fabulous every single minute, can we? That would be boring. And exhausting. And, truthfully, I rarely achieve “fabulous” anyway. The nearest I get is “Not Too Bad if You Don’t Look Too Closely” and, honestly, I’m fine with that. However, when the cashier at Kroger decides to hit the “Age Verification Bypassed” button instead of going through the motions of asking to see my ID when I come through her line with a six-pack of Red Stripe, it makes me think maybe I should put a bit more effort into my morning routine. Or have a morning routine, perhaps. Sadly, this Kroger incident merely capped off a week of subtle reminders, age-wise. For instance, a friend who also has a 54th birthday this summer gleefully pointed out that next summer we can celebrate by shopping with senior-citizen discounts at Belk. And my younger brother who I still picture in a Little League uniform is turning 50 this year. But the most telling of all is the morning when the headline on my daily fashion-advice email from a favorite style website was “Get Betty White’s Sexy Look!” … and I clicked on it.
Cupcakes and T-shirts and Fireworks, Oh My!
Is it wrong that some of the things I most look forward to
when it comes to the Fourth of July are eating and wearing all things red, white and blue? I mean, fireworks are fun and cookouts are cool, but give me an artificially colored sugary treat and a patriotic T-shirt made halfway across the world and I’m happy. Seriously! I’m not being sarcastic here … well, maybe a little bit. But these incredibly yummy cupcakes were made with care and sold with joy at a small and local family bakery — the lemonade one especially is delicious with its tart and refreshing burst of lemony flavor. And the T-shirt, priced at $5.99, came from a discount store that has successfully brought style within reach of almost all budgets. So, in celebrating our national birthday, I’m also honoring our quintessential American values of capitalism, entrepreneurship and democratization. On the other hand, you could point out that I’m contributing to the growing problems of obesity and job loss. But here’s the thing: I’m free to do that. I’m free to shop for cupcakes anywhere I want to and eat as many as I feel I can. (Are all four too many? Please say “no.”) I’m free to go anywhere I want on a T-shirt search and buy anything I can sneak into the house without my husband noticing that fits into my budget. Free to do pretty much what I want to do. Free. To. Do. What. I. Want. I don’t always make the best choices, but at least I’m free to make them. Thank you, Founding Fathers and Unheralded Founding Mothers. Happy Birthday!
And now I’m going to put on my T-shirt, eat a cupcake and drink more coffee because I’m not used to such deep thinking before lunch.
The Captain Gets Crackin’
It’s true I started this grandparenting adventure three years ago with grand dreams of all the wonderful stuff I was going to buy Capt. Adorable. Luckily, his parents — Older Daughter and Best Son-In-Law Ever — knew better. They’ve created a home where the simple pleasures are valued more than the Toy of the Day. And really, what else does the 3-year-old Captain need for an afternoon of family fun than a $2 bag of unshelled pistachios? At least
that’s what I was hoping when that’s the present I brought to their house recently because grandmas always bring presents. And it was a hit on all levels. First there’s the joy of bypassing the bowl Grandma Kacky conscientiously set out and simply dumping the whole bag on the table. Then there’s the careful consideration of each nut, carefully assessing its ease of crackability and gauging the likelihood for one or both halves and/or the nut itself to go flying across the room when opened. When it comes to the cracking part, extreme concentration is required — and even sometimes requests for some help from above. Finally, there’s that lovely salty and green-nutty satisfying crunch that makes all that hard work worthwhile. Well … for the Captain, anyway. After going through about two-thirds of the bag, he hops down and is ready for the next adventure — building a pirate ship out of the couch cushions, maybe? — but I have to hurry and find the broom and other cleaning supplies before the Captain’s parents come home and find the huge mess we made so I can impress them with my grandmotherly housekeeping skills.
One-Stop Shopping …
... for your Fourth of July celebration, because what's more convenient than being able to buy your fireworks and your liquour at the same time and in the same place? (Special thanks to favorite nephew Sam for help with the secret journalism photography.)
If It’s “Tuscany,” It Must Be Good
Husband JP was flummoxed by this loaf of "Neo-Tuscan" bread we found in a Wal-Mart bakery department. I mean, "neo-Tuscan?" What does that even mean? Is there such a thing as "new-Tuscan?" We in no way would ever be confused that we perhaps were buying "old-Tuscan" bread. But at least the label has all the triggering words that make me add an item to my shopping bags: natural, Tuscan, boule. Never mind that this basically is a round loaf of soft crusty white bread. It's "neo-Tuscan!" So there!
Can We Fit an 8-foot Table into a 6-foot Backseat?
Let’s go shopping! It’s the best kind — where you just look and
don’t bring anything home. (Incidentally, this is my husband’s preferred way of shopping.) Recently friends and I were cruising around nearby Smith Lake, close to Cullman, Alabama, and we passed an ironworks store/wedding rental on a county road. There were four of us, and three of the four have wonderful taste in all things decorative and are excellent and enthusiastic shoppers: One has an eye for vintage bargains, one keeps an organized list and only buys for 
specific needs and one thinks looooong and hard about each purchase. On the other hand, one of us just wants to go drink but always says “Sure! Let’s stop!! That looks like fun!!!” when the others see a tempting gardening/furniture/home decor/antiques shop because I she’s afraid they’ll make her stay home next time. But sometimes treasures 
such as gracefully scrolled metal furniture and luminous and colorful glassware delight even the most impatient shopper.
And to prove that I am not a total decorating and shopping failure, I offer Exhibit A: Part of our front porch. I was going for cozy, casual and not ugly. The rocking chair we bought a few years ago from Cracker Barrel, the fern stand I got at Hobby Lobby at one of those incredible sales at which you feel as if the store’s paying you to take stuff away, the pillow’s from T.J. Maxx and the flowers (picked out with help of Husband JP) are from Lowe’s. I buy all greenery at Lowe’s because I’m terrified of the workers at local nurseries who actually talk to you and ask if they can help you and who expect a somewhat intelligent reply in return when all I know is that I need plants I can’t kill that have the little sun and shade icons on them. Sigh. Come to think of it, my friends probably WILL leave me home next time.
Objects in Packaging May Be Smaller than They Appear
Dear Olay, I like your products. I really do. They work pretty much like you say they will and they sure beat the fancy stuff, price-wise. It’s just … well, I always feel as if you’re trying to lull me into thinking I’m getting two or three times more than I actually am. And there’s no need for that. It makes you look sort of duplicitous and sneaky (see Survivor’s Boston Rob for an example of this type of behavior.) I’d be happy with packaging that actually was the size of the product I’m buying — happier, truthfully, than paying for and disposing of three or four times as much paper and plastic than is required. And why place the jar behind the clear plastic so that you can’t really see the top of the bottom of it? Do you think I’m going to believe the jar is bigger than it is? I mean, I can read. I know how much is in the jar. When you try to pull a bait-and-switch, it makes me mad because 1) you think I’m that gullible and 2) I fell for it a little. So, please, just make a box that’s the size of the jar and we’ll all be much happier. Thank you very much.
Five Senses — Yum! (Sung to the Music from the Red Robin Ad)
Oh my goodness! Husband and I recently had a wonderful meal at Five
Senses restaurant in Murfreesboro, Tennessee quick overnight trip, and after a late and satisfying lunch on the way at Miss Annie’s Rustic Park Restaurant and Beer Garden in St. Joseph, Tennessee, it was later in the evening before we started thinking about eating again. (Oh, who am I kidding? When we’re on the road, I always think about eating.) The ‘Boro has some great choices, and since we still mourn the loss of downtown pizza
place “Tomato, Tomato,” we picked its upscale sibling Five Senses. Or, rather, JP picked it and I agreed. It was either Five Senses or Red Robin, and while I always enjoy working my way down a tower of fried onion rings, we made the correct decision here. We went with small plates instead of entrees and so started with three appetizers: fried oysters, Readyville Mill grits and a crabcake, all flavorful and with lovely sauces and little salads. Then Husband JP had a wedge salad, which he was delighted to see came in deconstructed form so he could play with his food, and I had a salad with fresh local lettuce. And then, dessert. Oh my oh my. Usually creme brulee is my go-to, but JP talked me out of it with a suggestion to try something new. Thank you, dear sweetie, because this trio of sorbets — pomegranate, mango and pink grapefruit on crispy lace cookies “glued” to the plate with homemade whipped cream — was absolutely divine. Every bite was cool, creamy, tart or sweet. And, honestly, to tell the truth, as much as I adore creme brulee and would eat it every day except that it’s like 10,000 calories per bite, the best part is the contrast of the crunchy sugar top with the smooth richness underneath. When that’s gone, it’s still good but bordering possibly on sameness. However, every bite of this sorbet — every single bite — was an adventure. As it always is when I go out with my husband.
Coffee with Cathy 